JarethThe History
by diamantes
Summary: This is the story behind the Goblin King, the story begins with his mother, the Queen Trarrissima
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the places in this tale, or Jareth, (sigh, alas for this). He and the Underground belong to Jim Henson and Co., and we live what I call the Overworld, so it doesn't really belong to anyone. However, the Queen Trarrissima and various other unnamed characters do belong to me, so sue me not.

Chapter One

1600 A.D.

The Goblin queen had a taste for adventure and deception, and she knew no better fools to prey upon than her own subjects. It was a habit of hers to be a two-faced ruler: on one hand a stern, stony  empress, supreme ruler of all the Underground and making no contact with her lowly subjects; but on night like this one, she was an unknown villager, a peasant who laughed and drank with the rest of the goblins, almost coarse in her lack of inhibitions and often out drinking until late at night in her long, dirty brown cloak. People mistook her for a common goblin wench, no richer than the rest of them, and just as easy to mess about with.

            She did, however, take care to always carry her sceptre about with her, just in case things got too rowdy. 

            Oftentimes she would step over to the border between the Underground and the realm of men and beasts, called the Overworld, with which the goblins had a shaky alliance. It was in this realm that the queen's hypocrisy became almost painfully clear to her, and she often wondered why the goblins could not befriend such folk as she joined in their merry festivals. "It is the way," she told herself sternly every time. "It is the way it must be, and it is the way it has always been, and always will be. The subjects wish to have some distance, and so they have it."

She knew in her heart that it was partly her own lazy fear of change that separated her subjects from humans, but would not let herself admit this.

"I do not like these humans," she thought as she danced among them. "They are cruel to my people. I do not like them. I just use them for entertainment."

With that thought, she resolved to forget such trivialities and enjoy herself. "This is not my regal conscience' time for speaking," she thought to herself. "It may jabber as much as it wishes to later on."

And with that, she joined in their merry dancing.

The Coming of Spring was being celebrated among the humans, and in the glade where the queen stood, this was at its most obvious. The trees were strung with colorful ribbons which laced from limb to limb like the streaking flights of birds, paper lanterns dangling from their stomachs, and beneath, stretched out pantherlike in the moonlight, were a large quantity of equally bright and vibrant tents, hungrily encircling a great bonfire that shot out from the middle of the glade like fury. About this fire danced many men and women,  their half-naked bodies writhing and twisting ecstatically around the busy flames, to some distant music which seemed to flood the glade.

            The queen let loose to the wonderful beat, waving her arms in the air. A snatch of momentum caught her cloak and slid it down off her forearm, so that her dark goblin skin was shown to the world. Many men stopped dancing and stared at this new discovery, confused by the near blackness of her skin in comparison to the paleness of all the others'. Whispers hissed back and forth in a tangled web that closed around Trarrissima. "She is not human! She is something strange!"

            Trarrissima glanced about her and slowed her dancing, once again hiding her arms beneath her cloak. She could barely understand their language, but knew  Her cowl slipped away from her face a little bit, exposing her black chin and her long yellow goblin teeth. She tugged her hood back about her face when she saw their looks of disgust, and they shrunk  away from her as she danced.

            Trarrissima stopped dancing and wondered if she should leave, but she wondered even more at the people's prejudice. They were such a motley crowd themselves, consisting of the old and the young, the tall and the short, the thin and the fat, all mixing together. Why should not she too be allowed to mingle with them? Was this the reason or the result of the Underground's separation from this realm?

As she surveyed the crowd, marking their differences, a certain young man caught her eye. He was of middling height, and outstanding beauty, every inch of his lithe, muscular form vibrating with vigorous life. He seemed to Trarrissima the very model of a human male, his curly brown hair and rich brown eyes warming his milky skin. He shone amidst his friends with a youthful energy the Goblin queen found irresistible. 

She felt herself being drawn to him, as an autumn leaf is guided from a tree by the wind. Slowly, almost stealthily, she crept towards him.

            Their eyes met and he smiled encouragingly, starting towards her. He was shivering visibly in anticipation, and Queen Trarrissima liked the feeling of power he gave her. She smiled at him, drawing back her hood slightly to display her rows of sharp teeth. They met in the middle of things, face to face, a rush of confusion about them creating a vacuum in which they might communicate.

The man pointed at himself with a stubby finger. "Fratz," he grunted, in a deep, husky voice that the queen associated with the felling of trees and the grinding of stones.

She smiled. "Good," she responded silkily, in the common goblin tongue.*

The man could not understand her; nevertheless he took her hand. They danced slowly, erotically to the lilting tune, unnoticed by the crowd. Then they sped up and began to twirl. People stopped and stared, moving far out of their way as Trarrissima, senseless in the dizzying moment, tossed back her lovely head and let her hood fall from it, her long pale hair swept off of her dark face, making a whirlwind of ecstasy about them as she stared at the spinning roulette of stars and laughed. At one point her entire cloak fell from her person, and she was dancing in her dark dragonskin gown, her cares lost in the jungle of Fratz' brown eyes.

They spun away, amidst the crowd of staring faces, into the seclusion of the woods, and Fratz grabbed the Goblin queen's hand and led her away to a quiet grove full of ferns and lilacs. The full moon shone down clearly upon them and a little stream trickled by their feet. Fratz seemed dazed and confused, so Trarrissima grabbed his hand and tugged him down to the ground, where she lay on top of him and kissed him gently. "Love….love…" breathed Trarrissima softly,  nibbling Fratz' ear. This ignited him and he began kissing her all over her body….

They consummated their love beneath the lilac trees, and as the young man lay there sleeping, Trarrissima conjured another cloak for herself and slipped back into the woods, unnoticed by passing men who were on their way to bed. As she stepped over the border between the Underground and the Overworld, the moon setting behind the buildings of the goblin city, she recalled to herself the events of the evening and laughed with joy. Little did she know what she had brought back with her.


	2. The Birth of an Oddity

  
Disclaimer: I don't own Jareth, the Underground, or any of the stuff here from Labyrinth. And Overworld is, I realize, a really overused term, but here its unique. We live her. Speak highly of it, y'hear? And sue me not, I beg you.  
  
Chap 2:  
  
  
Eight months later, a goblin babe was born of the queen of the Undergroujnd kingdom. He was unlike any goblin that had ever graced the inside of the queen's bedchamber, and all seven of Trärrissima's midwives crowded around the cradle to see him.  
Although he still had the wild golden hair and the dramatic sweeping brows common to goblin nobility, his skin, rather than being nearly black as pitch, was fair. His eyes caused the most puzzlement, however, for while the right one glowed with as much pale blue flame as any royal goblin's, the left eye had a hue somewhere between chocolate and mud, and that eye sparkled as much as the other one glowered. He was certainly, all the midwives muttered amongst themselves, an odd child.  
The queen eyed him suspiciously, almost sure that he was the product of some ill-ventured midnight revel, and that she had made a very grave mistake with a frightfully potent creature. However, she had slept with so many different sorts of folk within the past year that she could not remember for the life of her exactly whose mistake this boy was.  
Unable to bear blaming herself any longer for the strange new creature, she raised her head primly and spoke sternly and with an affirmative tone to her midwives.  
This is a grave mistake and we can do nothin to remedy it, save to punish those who caused it to happen. The midwives nodded obediently in unison. Trärrissima, satisfied with their response, addressed the tallest of the bunch. You, take this child away and put him in the eastern wing of the castle, out of my sight, until he comes of age. And then we will see.  
She smiled deftly at the rest of them and addressed the fattest midwife. And you, call upon every sorceror in the kingdom and bid them come before me. This is surely the work of some form of black magic, and they must be made an example of. As for the rest of you....  
She turned and looked at the clump of yet unaddressed midwives, who had crowded into a corner for fear that they would be held responsible instead.   
This child is in the all of your care and in the care of Masgaü here, she gesticulated towards the tallest midwife, who had gathered up the child unceremoniously in her arms. Until it is time, and then, like I said, bring him to me.  
Me lady? Masgaü, relieved of her reverence by her new authority in the situation. Me lady, what about his name, if it please your worship?  
Queen Trärrissima sighed. she barked, making the midwife shake in her shoes.  
A name, me lady?   
Queen Trärrissima sat bolt upright. A name? Oh yes, Masgaü, do not kid yourself and think that I had forgotten such an important part of it. A name, let me see him again,  
The baby was set back into her lap by timid claws. The queen cradled his face in her claws gingerly, taking care not to stare too deeply into either intelligent eye, which she felt watched and sensed her every thought. His eyes are the most prominent part of him, she said at last, staring at his stomach. I shall call him Jareth*. Now take him away, and do not speak of him again until I call him before me. Three-hundred years. Go. And send those sorcerors to me, at once.  
  
  
* means evil eyes in common goblin tongue. 


	3. Crystals for the Recluse

Disclaimer: It's not mine, not mine, except for the stuff that's mine, OK I'll shut up and let you read the story now.  
  
AN: On this chapter, I put some ferocious things about faeries. I LOVE FAERIES, and I would never dream of doing any of these things to them should I be given the chance. It's simply a part of the goblin culture that I can't avoid, and I'm sorry if it offends you guys. Love from Author.  
  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Goblins do not generally take very long to change from infants into toddlers; usually only a couple of days are spent in the crib before they are walking, jibbering in primal goblin language, and melting faeries using large crystals and hot sunlight. A goblin child is expected to bouncy and energetic from the first, and brutal to the last.  
Jareth seemed an unusual child to his nurses. He was none of these things. Having taken two weeks nearly to age into a toddler, he was predominately silent. Almost nothing could excite him. He found no joy in the personal killing of faeries. When presented with a box of trapped garden faeries and a chance to boil them to death, he merely let out a bored, sigh and spoke with the sarcasm that encased his rare occasions of speech.Why don't you just let the garden gnome take care of them? It's his job, isn't it?  
The nurses soon tired of Jareth and his lack of emotion and left him to his own devices. Jareth's own devices consisted of him moping around his wing of the castle all day, looking at the portraits and daydreaming, twirling a particular set of crystal balls between his fingers. He loved everything about these balls: the shape, the reflection of all the other colors around them, the texture of a crystal as it spun into orbit about the tip of his finger.   
His crystals soon became an insatiable habit; even as he slept his fingers turned, sensing the coolth that wasn't there and the smooth curves that haunted his imagination  
Meanwhile, the Queen Trärrissima had two more sons, both full-blooded goblins and both raucous and difficult as children. One was named Maskevich, (Severed-tooth in goblin court speak, due to the fact that he was born with a wonky tooth which dipped like an hourglass in the middle), he was a radical, energetic child, and his mother regretted that he would not be the next King of the Underground.  
The younger of the two new sons was named Gheffinial, (Full-of-feeling.) He had a military disposition and a passionate nature, The queen loved him very much. He would have made a fine king as well.  
The years passed, the three princes grew up with the two younger ones quite seperate from their older brother. Jareth was not even informed of their existence, but was left to face his adolescence a solitary half-goblin. He knew that with every day that passed, his moment of finally meeting his mother drew nearer and nearer. Yet he was in no hurry, because he sensed something bad lurking for him in that other end of the castle, something vicious and fierce and dark: a resentment that had been growing in the queen's heart for centuries, that was bound to jeopardize his freedom forever.


	4. School Days

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Labyrinth stuff, but if only I did, then.....oh hee hee hee, the things to be done, the sights to be seen! Oh, sorry, yeah, and some of that other stuff is mine, but if you've seen the movie, you'll know which is which.  
  
  
Chapter 3  
  
  
Jareth sat at the foot of his bed, twiddling a crystal ball between his fingers. Across from him, the sun's rays streamed in smugly from an open window. It made him squint. Jareth didn't like the sunlight. He didn't even like moonlight, but at he could at least stare accusingly at the moon and it would stare back rather than searing his eyes shut. Jareth glanced into the looking-glass by his bed. He had, apparently, evil eyes. They aren't evil, he muttered to himself. They just disagree.  
He had learned to calculate his life using the huge timepiece in the center of the room. There were twenty-four hours in the day, twelve of which were supposedly dedicated to his studies. Jareth sighed every time this fact popped into his head. He has twelve different tutors (one for each hour of study) and he was drilled daily in astrology, astronomy, calligraphy, arithmetic, botany, pyromancy, dendromancy, cleromancy, Goblin grammar, Faery Speak, History of Goblin Folk, and, for unknown reasons, English.  
Isn't that a human language? Jareth had asked when the squat English professor had been shown through the door.  
The professor had said nothing; he merely glowered at Jareth and commanded that he open his textbook to page two and start reading.  
Jareth didn't like any of his professors at all. They were the smallest, the fattest, and the hairiest goblin men he had ever laid his eyes on, and each one wore a sour expression that he could not wipe from his face, even with a dishcloth dipped in faery dust. They spoke either in short, sharp barks or in a series of long, drawn-out groans, and never allowed themselves to admit they didn't know an answer Jareth soon discovered that it was easiest to waste an hour's lesson time by asking a professor of the drawling category a question in another subject. One of his favorite pasttimes was to play this game with his agéd History tutor, Professor Märcust.   
Professor, what is the average digging speed of a native tree root pixie if it is carrying a load of tréugler nuts on its back?  
Professor Märcust would lean back in his chair and hem and haw a bit. Ummmm, well you see Highness, it, umm, let's see, ummmm, uhhhhhoooohhhoohuhhhohohohhomomommohmmhmhmmh......  
The goblin prince learned to tolerate the moans and groans and found that he could actually get up and wander about his chambers, playing with crystals, while the tutor sat oblivious. Sometimes, Jareth would come back and sit down when the hour was nearly over, and gaze intently at the wrinkly little goblin, until the bell rang and the professor was ushered out by a nurse in order to make way for the next lesson.  
There were twelve hours for recreation time, as his nurses termed it, in Jareth's day. This was the time he spent mostly wandering in and out of the corners of his bedroom, twirling crystals absentmindedly and probing his mind for deeper thoughts. Jareth had extensive capacites for contemplation, which he chose to reserve for his hours of boredom. His life, as he saw it, had no apparent point. Lessons which he was supposed to be learning, for the mere sake of illustrious records, no doubt, and being able to say to party-goers later on in his life, What? Dendromancy? Oh yes, of course I studied it, anyone from a good home studies THAT.  
He would then, no doubt, be able to lean back in a manly fashion and tease a young fluttersome creature with his eyes, and offer to educate her in the ways of Dendromancy later that evening. And there would be another member of the goblin elite living inside the castle walls.  
Jareth said aloud one morning, as four nurses were in his room making his bed. is not something I fancy getting into.  
His second youngest nurse shrugged and looked at him sidelong. We'll just see, Prince Jareth, she replied, plumping his pillows. You may find yourself in want of a queen when the time comes, but like I said, we'll just see.  
Jareth pondered this for a moment. I should need someone I can interpret. he said at last. Some one like me, I mean.  
Well, Highness. His nurse turned the pillows over again and began folding blankets. You may find yourself in a lonely state of things then, I may say.  
Find myself? Jareth stamped his foot, exasperated. Why do you keep saying I shall find myself? How am I supposed to find myself? I'm here?  
Yes Highness, but you're not there, said his nurse, and she and her three affiliates left his room in single file.


	5. Mother

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Jareth awoke in the early morning sunlight, while the sky was still a bittersweet orangey-red, and decided that he liked the sun that way. Shadowy and not so hot, and only halfway up. He wondered that he had never seen it in this position before.BR  
His nurses shook him, and he gleaned from their excited chatter that the day had finally arrived for him to meet his mother in her wing of the castle. Jareth, who had never been outside his own apartments since his birthday three-hundred-and-eighty years before, felt a whir of excitement within his skull: an emotion he had been blocking out for so long.BR  
He wondered whether the rest of the castle would be different from the winding steps and velvet tapestries he had known all his life. He imagined an exotic jungle of even finer tapestries, portraits, staircases going every which way, and of course loads of money and jewels dribbled all over the place. There would be mountains of rare artifacts and secret passages behind great stone fireplaces that had strange bones decorating their mantels, and every single passage would lead to more buried treasure, or a secret underground river with a new race living along its rocky banks that only he, Jareth, would discover.BR  
Then there would be a passage, he decided, that led out to the world of men. He had never seen a man before, he noted. It would be an interesting experience.BR  
His oldest nurse tugged him upright and attempted to begin dressing him. Jareth had never allowed her to lay so much as a warty claw upon him since about 1800. Dirty old thing, he had muttered, every time she had tried to undress him for bed after that. t get her claws on this princeling, no she wonBR  
He lay still now, allowing her to peel off his nightshift halfway before he stopped her. Nobody touches me except for me, he explained quietly.BR  
The nurse shrank back and nodded, shaken by his stony response.BR  
Jareth had grown into a strapping young adolescent, with long legs and a lean, attractive form. He glanced into the looking glass, brown eye winking as blue eye gazed on in a dignified way. He was a creature worthy of noting, but still so odd-looking.BR  
He sighed, feeling quite alone. He made his way to his wardrobe.BR  
BR  
*BR  
BR  
The goblin queen had waited for nearly an hour for her impertinent son to make his way downstairs to her chambers. She was furious by now at his tardiness, but she hid it all beneath a cool, assertive countenance, pushing herself for grace as she sat, rigid and cold, rooted in her silver chair.BR  
The door at last burst open. In strode Jareth, with a swagger in his step and a lazy calmness in his expression that made the queen livid. He was clad in a black leather tunic and black tights, with short leather boots coming halfway up his calf; he moved lithely, like dust through a drafty door, yet his prescence was determined, it was spiritually assured. It was waiting for something.BR  
His two different eyes seemed to be probing her face for answers, or at least the rephrasing of his questions. The queen felt nervous, as if he were deteriorating her bold spirits just by standing there.BR  
She stood up. Jareth, I presume. Please sit.BR  
She gesticulated towards the throne she had had prepared for him: a black, curvaceous seat of ebony with blood red cushions; he simply nodded and sat elegantly in the throne, perching one long, black leg atop a magnificent arm, and letting the other one rest on the floor. He said nothing, just twirled a crystal ball that appeared to have materialized out of nowhere between two fingers.BR  
The queen was awe struck, and before she could stop herself she had asked him, How did you do that?BR  
Jareth hinted at a smile and said innocently: What? Oh, you mean this?BR  
He wriggled his hand; there were now two crystal balls shining and twinkling about his long leather-coated fingers as he spun his toys in circles.BR  
The queen opened her mouth, but found she could not speak, not even to tell him that she found him insufferable and an impertinent misfit. It was all she could do just to close it again.BR  
What infuriated her the most was that Jareth had now tired of humiliating her: instead he had conjured up two more balls and was making them float in elegant shapes above his head. Queen Trrrissima felt compelled to grab his attention back once again.BR  
She called for some wine.   
"Now Jareth," she said boldly, revitalized by her simple command. This was, after all, her castle, where she was still the queen. "I called you here to talk to you about a matter of state that requires your attention."  
Jareth continued to stare into the air at the whirring crystals. "Oh? And what's that, Mother?"  
Trärrissima was ready to chide him for not addressing her formally when she remember who he was. "It's on the future of this kingdom. As you may know, I am almost past my time of ruling, and by right the kingship shall be passed onto the eldest child, that being you."  
A squat goblin brough in a decanter full of dark red liquid and two goblets. The queen accepted a glass of wine from the slave and passed it to Jareth, who dropped it as she said those words. A smashing clang could be heard all over the castle, waking up goblins who were working the night shift.   
The queen smiled; at last she had one over her son.  
Jareth sat there, mortified. The queen beamed in greasy ecstasy. "Please, Jareth," she said smarmily, unable to conceal her triumph. "Contain yourself."  
Jareth's eyes pulsated with ferocity. Yet the rest of him remained relaxed and icy. He said nothing.  
The queen's happiness died. "In any case, I suppose you were paying attention to what I said?"  
"Yes, but I don't believe it."  
Queen Trärrissima was taken aback by his apparent bashfulness. "What, a royal prince like yourself? It is only natural that you should come to power."  
Jareth sat up very tall and very straight. "I don't want it."  
The queen nearly dropped her own goblet. "What? You don't want what?"  
Jareth smiled astringently. "The throne, mother. I refuse it. I don't want to be king of this land."  
Trärrissima could have fainted; something she never did. She drank deeply from her goblet. "Well that is a shame, Jareth."  
"I won't take it," Jareth said with pride, settling back in his chair. "I'll let somebody else be king."  
The queen smiled sadistically, realizing how to burst his bubble. "But I'm afraid you can't do that, Jareth," she said quietly, like a snake's hiss. "It's the law."  
"I'll change that law!"  
"You can't do that unless you're the emperor."  
"So I'll become king and change it."  
"You can't do that!"  
"What?" Jareth seemed astonished. "Why?"  
The goblin queen sighed. "Well, you see, the goblin king is not the same thing as the emperor."  
"Then I'll go to see him and explain!"  
"Jareth, Jareth," The queen laughed. "Jareth. You really think you can charm your way out of anything? The emperor does not listen to wants or needs. She only does what needs to be done."  
Jareth's mouth fell open. "The emperor is a she?"  
His mother sighed. "Yes, Jareth. The word emperor is not used to denote gender in this realm. It is simply a job."  
Jareth stood up. "I still won't do it, even if she is the emperor. I don't want the throne. I can't have the throne. I don't care about anything!"  
"That is, Jareth," said the queen. "Often the best way to govern."  
"No!" yelled Jareth, suddenly kicking over the table with the wine and extra glasses. The decanter crashed to the agate floor, where it shattered and the wine fizzed and steamed. "You cannot tell me what to do! Nor can this emperor! Nobody can! You understand?" He looked at her and the queen felt a chill picking through her insides. "No, of course you don't." he said quietly. "You wouldn't. You don't even want me here. But in that case, I'll stay. I'll stay to make your soul bleed until it kills you."  
He popped a few more crystals into the air and turned to go. "I hate you, Mother," he added silkily. "You know that."  
The queen felt oddly lost, and torn by the draft of the door as he swung it shut behind him.  
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	6. Verticalian Dusk

  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Jareth stormed down the corridor, away from the ridicuous throne and his cringing mother. He was angrier than he had ever been before. How could she, even with her freezingly sadistic personality, stand to lay such a burden on him? She hadn't even attempted at seeing him all those years....all those years spent lonely and confused in the western wing of the castle; those horrible childhood years of books and bedtiem whispers and watching faeries die....all those years when....he was missing something.  
Jareth would never admit to need. It was a useless waste of his time and resources, he decided, and futile. He had all he needed....himself and his mind. He could do away with the rest. His nurses, his illusion of a mother, and even his crystals....  
Well, he might want to hang on to the crystals. But not because he needed them. He just liked them, watching them spiral around so carefree and daring, completely transparent, yet no one could see through them as long as they were moving.   
The unfortunate goblin prince ascended the stairs to his chamber in the west wing tower. How could she? How could she let herself?  
He began tripping up the stairs two at a time, as though trying to reach the moon. How did she allow that? How might she? How dare she?  
He kept climbing, more vigorously than ever, taking three steps at a time, four, five, a rhytm resounding in his head. _How dare she, how dare she, how dare she.....  
_He realized that his inner voice had changed and stopped.He had begun to think like a king.   
Jareth leaned sideways against the curling wall of the tower, the tug of gravity at his heels. He tried to hold back ungodly screams of despair. Instead, he felt silent tears slide between his clenched eyelids and down his sculpted cheeks.   
He thought he heard a pitterpatter of footsteps far below him, descending, and voices How could they have passed him without stopping? Was there another doorway down there?  
He pulled himself together and crept back down the winding stairs.  
The voices at the bottom were the hollow sounds of mice, crawling about between the cracks in the walls. The feet had been the escape of his own tears, fleeing down the stairwell and hitting the floor.


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